


Used to Be

by Zarla



Category: Phoenix Wright
Genre: Children, Gen, Hospital, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-30
Updated: 2007-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarla/pseuds/Zarla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's in the hospital, and Juan comes to visit. Thing is, he doesn't know <i>why</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Used to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Odd, melancholy little thing kind of exploring a potential past they could have had, and where that rivalry comes from and such. Takes place when Matt and Juan are about 13-14 years old.

He'd never done this before. It hadn't occurred to him that that would make things difficult.

He'd never even been in a hospital before, at least not that he could remember. All he knew about them was what he'd seen on television, and that wasn't entirely informative. The building was intimidating, the people didn't notice him, and he didn't know who to ask for help or even if he should. Frankly he was considering getting on his bike and just going home.

He'd come all this way, and still...he didn't know if he wanted to be here.

During the bike ride he'd written an entire speech, eloquent and perfect but now that he was actually in the hospital and the chemical medicine smell made it hard to think, all the words vanished. He could barely ask the nurse what condition he was in, if he could visit. He wasn't even sure he _could_ visit and he'd came all this way _anyway_. He couldn't count the number of ways he hadn't thought this through.

He waited on an uncomfortable worn out chair, staring at the magazines, playing with his bike key and trying to remember that speech he'd written, all those questions he intended to ask, everything he wanted to say and nothing came. All he could think of was what he must look like now, afterwards. It was a morbid thing to think about, almost callous in a way, but he just...couldn't get the idea out of his mind. They said he might lose an eye. Right side of the face torn up, unconscious for a while, but awake now. Stable in a ward somewhere, he wasn't entirely paying attention somehow. It all seemed unreal, and he trusted in dream logic to tell him where he needed to go.

He went up to the desk again, to ask if he was ready.

"Jose, wasn't it?"

"Juan."

"Juan, right...Angie, can you show Juan to the children's ward?"

He followed her through the hallways, reading the signs pointing out each room and area but not remembering anything about them. She knew where she was going, he trusted that much, and he didn't try to commit the hospital to memory. He didn't plan on coming here again.

She made idle chitchat, asked him who he was visiting and why. He mumbled responses, because she was attractive and young and his voice was changing, and he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of her. She asked him where his mother was, and he reluctantly said she was coming later. She wasn't of course; she didn't know he was here, and probably never would.

She knocked on an almost open door. "Excuse me, Mrs. Engarde? Matthew? You have a visitor..."

Juan hadn't planned on Matt's mother being there, but that only made sense. He ran a hand through his hair and walked into the room, and both Mrs. Engarde and Matt stared at him blankly.

There was a long, awkward pause. Juan didn't know what to say, he hadn't been able to think of anything to say for almost an hour. Eventually Mrs. Engarde cleared her throat, adjusting her purse on her lap in a strangely refined, almost practiced way that matched her immaculate attire.

"Hello, Juan."

"'Lo."

Another pause. Angie fidgeted near the door, but didn't leave. Maybe she wanted to see how this would play out, or she just wanted to make sure that they actually wanted Juan there. She didn't know what this pause meant, and neither did Juan really, except that it was uncomfortable.

"Matthew." Mrs. Engarde looked to her son, her voice a bit sharp. Matt was sitting up in his bed, wearing a hospital gown. Despite the countless bruises covering his body, the cast on one arm, and the large white bandage covering his right eye, he looked alert and suspicious. Juan didn't blame him, exactly...it had been years since they'd even spoken to each other.

Matt stared at Juan a little longer, and his expression was hard to read. That could have been the bandage over one eye and around his forehead, but Juan couldn't say. He didn't know how Matt would react to this in the first place, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt either.

Except uncomfortable, and awkward. Maybe Matt felt the same.

Matt turned his head to one side, looked away. "Juan."

"Matt," Juan replied, since that seemed like the natural thing to say. After he said it, he realized how stupid it sounded, but it was too late at that point. He stood there, looked down at his shoes hidden under the tattered edges of his jeans, ran over his path here in his head again in hopes it might jog his memory of what he wanted to say.

A shorter pause this time, before Mrs. Engarde broke it again.

"I haven't seen you in...how many years has it been, Juan?"

Her voice was precise and smooth, educated. As if this was nothing unusual, as if her son went to the hospital all the time. It should have sounded unnatural, but Mrs. Engarde had a way of _making_ it sound natural. Untold experience in politicking, organizing events, navigating the social circles and maintaining the thousand small things that define a person's status and it showed in everything about her, from her posture to her tone to her clothes. She was wearing jewelry, in a hospital as she visited her son, and her hair was neatly and carefully done.

"Dunno." Juan still didn't want to say very much, given that with how awkward he felt, he was sure his vocal cords would betray him and crack. Something about Mrs. Engarde made her opinion very important, even if he hated her. Disliked her. "Two maybe..."

"Yes. I always wondered what happened to you." Voice still carefully controlled and calm, and she looked between Matt and Juan for a few seconds. "How's your mother?"

"Fine..."

Matt had yet to say anything. He still stared at Juan, either waiting for an explanation or hoping that he could puzzle one out by studying his appearance. Juan ran his hand through his hair again, suddenly aware of how dusty and worn-out he must have looked. He didn't plan on...making a big deal of the visit. He just...was going to come and say some things, and he didn't dress for the occasion, and definitely didn't dress to impress Mrs. Engarde, although he didn't think that was possible.

She never said it, never outright, never made it obvious, but Juan felt like it was his skin, his accent, his name that made her look at him with that slight, ever-present disdain. It made him angry, but he was just barely a teenager, and there wasn't much he could do about it.

"I...I wanted to talk to Matt," Juan said. Matt tilted his head slightly, and Mrs. Engarde pursed her lips and nodded.

"Well of course, why else would you be here? You want to talk to him alone, am I right?"

"Yes'm." Juan hated adding that, but Mrs. Engarde had reprimanded him about it those few times when he was a child, visiting their house and it stuck somewhere, where she was much bigger and more frightening.

He didn't respect her now, and the fact that some part of him still felt like he should again made him angry. At least that was something in the face of the general apathy he'd felt since he'd come here.

"All right. I can wait in the hallway for a few minutes. It has been so long since you two have talked to each other after all. I'm sure you have a lot to discuss." She stood up, and nodded to Angie, who still stood by the door. Juan kept his eyes down as she walked out of the room, and the steady click of her heels stopped all of a sudden in front of him.

"Take that out of your mouth, Juan, it's rude. This is a hospital," she said as she took the straw from between his lips, and Juan was too surprised to do anything about it at first, and then it was too late. "Try and look presentable."

Juan kept his feelings to himself and nodded. She was an adult, and despite the fact that his relative powerlessness was infuriating, there was nothing he could do. He glanced at Matt to see him smirking...no surprise there.

Mrs. Engarde continued on her way outside, Angie following along a little behind, as if nothing had happened. They didn't shut the door, and Juan could see their faint shadows on the linoleum outside.

Mrs. Engarde knew as well as they did that Matt and Juan hadn't had an exactly favorable parting of ways. They fought a lot, even when they were friends, even when they could both barely talk, and everyone said that was just how boys were, self-confident and assertive. Both such forceful personalities, and it was no surprise that they'd clash. So their parents said.

They fought, and the time they spent together lessened. He wasn't sure when it started, and he wasn't sure if it was their fault or idea. Just over time, they'd stopped spending time together. They stopped running in the same circles, found other friends outside each other. The last time he remembered talking to Matt, they'd fought like they always had, but something about it seemed hollow and real all at once, and he wasn't sure how to feel. Angry, like something wasn't finished, and guilty that sometimes he hated Matt, and he shouldn't because they were friends.

At least, he thought they were friends. Everyone seemed to think it was normal they fought so much, and they did so much together, but Juan wasn't sure if he really felt like he was Matt's friend at all. He felt more like someone to show off to, to compete with, to argue with who happened to be Matt's age.

That was kind of how he felt about Matt, after all.

They matched each other, they were similar in so many ways and they used each other in the same way, to bolster themselves, and he was fairly sure that friendships weren't supposed to be selfish like that.

Juan didn't know. He did know that he was here, he came the day he'd heard about what happened to Matt, that he was in the hospital and instead of coming home after school he came here, with the single intent of saying something and now he couldn't think of what it was. He was staring at Matt, his _something_, and he didn't know what to say. It all sounded so good in his head originally, whatever it was.

Matt stared at him with his one good eye, light brown and suspicious, hair poking out through strips of bandages, and he didn't say anything.

Juan came closer, put his bike key in his pocket because he was sure he'd twirl it or something if he had it in his hands, and he sat down beside the bed. Matt followed him with his one eye, but still said nothing.

"Hi."

Matt waited for a few seconds before speaking, and his expression was carefully neutral. "What are you doing here?"

Juan pressed a hand to his forehead, which felt sticky and dusty all at once. "I dunno. I...what, two years? Three years?"

"You kept count?" Matt made a faint scoffing sound.

"I guess."

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know...I wanted to say something."

"Then say it and get out. My dad is coming soon, and I don't want him to see you here. He'll start asking questions and I don't want to deal with it."

Blunt, but he had a shocking capacity for cruelty. Sometimes he had pretended at civility with Juan, since he had been putting on a much more pleasant persona at school to expand his circle of friends, but Juan knew him too well. Juan wasn't sure if it was a courtesy when Matt was openly cruel to him or when he faked some kind of compassion anymore. He wasn't sure what showed any kind of respect, or if any of it showed any kind of respect.

"I can't remember what it was."

Matt snorted. "That's lame. Why are you even here then?"

"Just...are you okay?"

The question came out without thought, and the two of them blinked and looked at each other. Matt seemed genuinely shocked for a moment, then he gave Juan a disbelieving look. "What do you _think_?"

"I heard your face got messed up real bad..."

"Huh." Matt looked away. "News travels fast I guess, even in your circles."

Mrs. Engarde irritated him just slightly, and that irritation only grew with time spent with her. Something enflamed by constant exposure. It was similar with Matt now he found, a kind of growing distaste and frustration and he wasn't sure again why he was here, or why he asked the question. All he felt right now was...anger and a matching kind of disdain. So why...?

"That's got to suck for you, getting your face all messed up. You rely on it a lot." A mean thing to say, and Matt twitched in response. This was familiar, years old, and still Juan felt the same kind of anger and indignance fueling his words, and the familiar satisfaction of knowing he'd wounded Matt the same way. Friendly teasing wasn't supposed to be like this, he was almost sure. It didn't feel like it should be this way.

"Is that why you're here? To make fun of me?" Matt huffed and tried to toss his head, but the movement must have aggravated something in his neck, and he stopped halfway through with a soft grunt of pain. "Couldn't wait until I was back in school? You really are sad, Juan. Don't you have, like, any life at all?"

"I told you, I wanted to say something but...I can't remember it now-"

"Yeah, you mentioned that already-"

"So...I thought I'd just say whatever came to mind, until your mom kicks me out for not matching the decor." Juan kept his voice low, and wasn't sure if Mrs. Engarde could hear him. He didn't know if he wanted to get caught or not. "It's just...I don't know. Even though we haven't talked in years, when I heard about what happened I just had to come and see..."

"What, to gloat over me?" Matt glared at him, trying to look arrogant. His lower lip quivered just a little, and he could hear his voice shake. "I don't really need that right now, okay? They said-"

Matt cut himself off, and looked away from him with a quick, jerky motion.

"What'd they say?" It was a simple, curious question, and Juan didn't think about how awkward it would be, or why Matt would cut himself off, or anything like that before it came out of his mouth.

Matt's shoulders twitched, tightened, and his voice was angry and short. "If you really want to know, they said- they said I might lose my eye completely, that I-I might get some permanent scars." And from his voice, it was the latter possibility that horrified him most. "Have to wear an eye patch like, like a pirate or something- I'll never look normal again, you happy?" Matt's shoulders twitched again, and his voice broke. "If that's all you wanted then get out, I don't even want to look at you. You shouldn't even be here."

"That's not it." Although now that Juan thought about it, that was part of it. There was something in him that said he should feel bad for Matt, but it didn't sound real, and he wasn't sure why he should. "It's just...what happened? What happened with us? We used to be friends, didn't we?"

"I don't know, were we?" Matt said petulantly, and he tried to cross his arms before he remembered that one was in a cast, and ended up fumbling awkwardly trying to cover it up. "You were always following _me_ around. _I_ didn't like you very much."

Juan laughed slightly, causing Matt to start and look at him. "I didn't like you much either."

Matt gave him an odd look and it took him a few seconds to think of something to say. "Then why?"

"...I don't know. Maybe that's what I wanted to ask you. Why?"

"...Well, not 'cause you were a good friend, 'cause you weren't." Matt again looked away. "You were just disappointing."

It stung, but something about it rang false. "We were always...chasing each other."

"What?"

"Just...everything, I remember most clearly...we fought all the time."

"Again, I didn't like-"

"And we fought over everything, and we were constantly trying to...to show the other one that we were better. We were competing, right? That's...not normal, not as far as we took it. I don't know if we were ever friends. We've been friends since we were five and I don't even know if we were friends at all." Juan found himself smiling for some reason, and his eyes stung and he wasn't sure why. "I don't even know why I'm here, but I think part of me does want to laugh at you for getting your face torn up." Juan looked at Matt's cast because he didn't feel like he could look at him properly. It had two signatures in the same black marker, and it took him a few seconds to read them upside down and sideways. Matt and Lucille. Matt's mom, of course.

The cast shook a little, and he looked up and saw Matt trembling. His one eye was narrowed tight.

"But there's...something else, and I don't know what it is. I just...had to make sure you were okay, and I don't know...I don't know." Juan buried a hand in his hair, again unable to make eye contact with Matt and staring at his chest instead. "I just...I guess I couldn't think of not having you there. You know, to make things harder." Ugh, his voice cracked there, that was so embarrassing. He really hoped that stopped soon. "Maybe that's why I'm here, there's something in me that needs you to push me or else...I don't know. I just can't imagine you not...there. So..."

Juan trailed off, unable to think of an end to his thought. Matt didn't say anything for a while, still trembling.

"Is that what you wanted to say?"

"I don't know...maybe. Probably."

"Fine." Matt's voice was sharp. "Then get out. We're done."

Juan blinked, and found that he stood up without complaint. He didn't feel surprised at all.

"That's how I thought you'd react." Didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Well great, you're a mind reader as well as a jerk. Just get out." Matt's voice still sharp and hard.

Juan took a few steps towards the door, reaching in his pocket for his bike key.

"I'm not going to come back. I just wanted to say that, I think, that's all."

"Did I _ask_ you to come back?" Matt's voice shook, and broke again. "Did anyone ask you to come back? I don't think so. Why would I even want you here? Just get out of here, just go. I hope you get hit by bus so I can come and laugh at _you_."

"I bet you would," Juan said somewhat distantly, and Mrs. Engarde walked back into the room. He wasn't sure how much she'd heard, but at the moment he didn't really care. He didn't plan on seeing her again.

"Did you boys have a good talk?"

Matt looked away, sulking and Juan nodded, since he didn't want to open the potential can of worms that "no" entailed.

"That's good. Are you heading home now, Juan?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Tell your mother not to be such a stranger." She smiled at him with fake sincerity despite her somewhat subtle jab at him, and Juan had seen that mirrored so perfectly on Matt. It was so easy to see where he got it from. "Goodbye, Juan."

"Bye." Juan moved past her, then looked back over his shoulder. Mrs. Engarde had walked over to the side of Matt's bed, rested her hand on his forehead in apparent concern. She fussed over his hair, brushed some of it over the eye patch so it was somewhat hidden from view. Matt didn't stop her, although he didn't look happy about her attention. They were speaking softly so that he couldn't hear.

Juan was suddenly struck by how small Matt looked, all bandages and thin paper gowns and still glaring at him as he left and his mother demanding all the attention in the room with her presence.

He wasn't sure what he felt when he saw him like that. Pity? Disgust? Disdain? Regret? Something, but it wasn't important. He wasn't coming back, and even after all that, he still wasn't sure why he'd came.

He pulled his name tag off his sweater, crumpled it up, and tossed it in a trash can as he walked out of the hospital towards his bike. _That was pointless_, but as soon as he thought it, it didn't seem right.

Juan headed home, feeling just as empty as he had when he first entered the hospital.


End file.
